


For her

by korereapers



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Family Feels, Fluff, Gen, Pre-Canon, beyond the darkest day zine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:14:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29786295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/korereapers/pseuds/korereapers
Summary: Shoot, he loves his sister so much. Bloody hell.So Piers sighs, rubs his arms to get rid of the sensation of bugs crawling on his skin, and tries again. It’s the least he can do for her.But far from that huge freaking galvantula.
Relationships: Mary | Marnie & Nezu | Piers
Comments: 8
Kudos: 21





	For her

**Author's Note:**

> This was for the Beyond the Darkest Day zine! I'm incredibly dumb so I just realised I was allowed to make the fic public. Yeah, it happens

Piers sighs yet again, blue eyes frantically searching through the tall grass.

He has been on Route 7 for what feels like hours. A part of him groans, begging to leave and go back home where it’s safe, where nobody’s going to bug him ever again. Where he can have his little life with his gang and his sister.

Then, of course, he remembers his sister, so the groaning part falls silent and he does what he has to do. This is for Marnie, after all. That’s all that matters.

The problem is that Marnie has a very special… preference. Piers had asked her, bless his bloody heart, the Pokémon she liked the most. The sweet child had mentioned a morpeko, an especially rare species.

So, of course, Piers had complied.

He groans again, and again, because morpeko are way too small, so his search has to be thorough.

A part of him realises that this is also one of his selfish desires. He’s a gym leader, and to be completely honest with himself, he’s tired of it. Fed up. Piers is strong, he knows that much. He trusts every single one of his Pokémon, has trained them for a long time. He enjoys battles as much as anyone. It’s just--this life. It’s not for him. 

Piers yearns for the public. He wants the rush that comes with a good performance, the mindless screams of excited fans. Freedom in his soul, to compose by himself, and to embrace music in front of others. Marnie yearns for another kind of glory.

He has seen her watching the telly. She watches the champion with silent determination. Piers knew this day would come sooner or later, and it might as well be sooner. He feels something fuzzy against his leg, static electricity making his skin bristle. Bright blue eyes look at him, eight legs moving in soft crackles.

Unluckily, Piers has never been too fond of bugs.

He screeches, and runs in terror. The poor galvantula just looks at him, confused and startled, but Piers can’t think rationally. He sprints through the whole route, face even paler.

And then, he remembers his sister’s round face, that he would gladfully squish (privately, because he has a reputation to keep) if she wasn’t so serious and so incredibly… mature for her age.

Piers supposes it’s to be expected. Even if he is the older brother, both of them had to grow up when their parents died. Piers had tried his best to provide for her: concerts, gigs, and even his stupid job as a gym leader. Only so she could have a future.

Rent in Spikemuth is cheap (or sometimes nonexistent), but they still have to eat. Marnie still deserves a decent childhood. Everyone in town is  _ dedicated  _ to it, to her and her happiness. Piers couldn’t be prouder. 

Still, the person that deserves the most pride is Marnie herself. Without a doubt.

The kid is not just mature, but hardworking. Clever, talented. She is good at music, at math, at strategy. She is so full of love for the world, so much fire inside of her, that he wonders how she is able to keep it under control in such a tiny body. Such a round and inexpressive face.

Shoot, he loves his sister so much. Bloody hell.

So Piers sighs, rubs his arms to get rid of the sensation of bugs crawling on his skin, and tries again. It’s the least he can do for her.

But far from that huge freaking galvantula.

_ Think, Piers _ . How difficult can it be to find a tiny rodent in the tall grass? But then he remembers that Morpeko are usually gentle creatures. Chippering, making those adorable little sounds. Until they get angry, of course. Morpeko get angry when they’re hungry, . more or less like his sister, if he’s completely honest.

_ That’s an idea, _ then.

He has a stash of Pokémon food saved in his right pocket, because linoone gets antsy if it doesn’t eat during road trips. He’ll have to apologize later.

He still has to look for the perfect place. Somewhere without big bugs, or other Pokémon capable of breaking his spine if he’s not careful enough. Morpeko are strong. Piers…  _ isn’t _ . And he isn’t about to take out his own Pokémon. That would scare the poor it away, or start a fight that he is definitely  _ not  _ ready for.

The grass smells a little less weird and  _ uninhabited  _ at the moment. No big Pokémon are around, so he decides to do the smart thing and hide a little food, crumbling it carefully among the grass. Then it’s just a waiting game.

Piers is terrible at waiting games. They make him feel damn-well vexed.

“Think ‘bout your sis, Piers,” he tells himself. “Think ‘bout your sis.”

Marnie’s shy smile becoming open and enthusiastic when she sees what he has for her. Her tiny pigtails jiggling as she runs towards him. Piers purposely ignoring how bloody awful it is to run with such short legs. Maybe one day she’ll get taller than him and smack his head from behind like Piers deserves.

A sound startles him, stopping his stupid pseudoparental daydreaming. It’s high pitched, and utterly  _ adorable _ : the sound tiny Pokémon make when they’re happy. Not that he’s into adorable pokémon. They’re all bad boys, like him; bad boys with cool poses, made to rock and roll.

Hidden in the tall grass is a morpeko. The tiny Pokémon looks up, and Piers realises it’s angry. Which makes it even cuter.

Piers rolls his eyes. What if he does like morpeko? It’s a dark type, after all. And it has boiling anger, not so deep inside. He likes the fiery little guy. So, of course, he makes the most rational choice. He reaches out, and tries to pet it.

Bad idea, Piers. Simply awful.  _ What the hell is wrong with you? _ He would ask himself hours later. Trying to touch a Pokémon that is clearly hungry and mad.  _ That could have been the way you lost a bloody finger. _

It could have well been, as he’s too busy shrieking and trying not to cry, which is hard when you have a rabid morpeko hanging from your fingertip.

Luckily, the Pokémon is startled enough by his wild yelling, so it lets Piers’ finger go. It lands gracefully on the ground, looking at him with worry and… regret?

“Bloody hell.”

Morpeko makes another (devastatingly adorable) noise, sadder, as if asking for forgiveness. Piers looks at his index finger. It’s a miracle it hasn’t drawn blood.

Round eyes. Tiny face. Small but strong teeth. A gentle disposition despite its bloodthirsty nature when it’s angry. Piers loves it.

“Now, then. Sorry if I scared ya,” he starts, hand still tingling from the pain. “You’re very strong. A li’l narky, but strong.”

The small beast puffs its chest, awfully proud. Piers knows he could keep feeding its ego endlessly, but the day has been too bloody  _ long _ , his legs are cramping, and he is  _ aching  _ for a meloc berry smoothie. And his sister’s smile.

“What would ya say if I told ya that I know someone that would be absolutely  _ chuffed  _ to meet ya?” The question is slow. He knows that Pokémon don’t understand human language too well, but that they can understand what humans feel. He decides to give it a hint, just in case.

Some Pokémon react poorly when they see pokéballs. They think it’s an invitation to fight. It’s a risky move, but a risk Piers is willing to take if it’ll make his sister happy.

The tiny ball shines against the light of the sun, which seems to be as tired as Piers himself in the evening sky, ready for bed so it can shine the next morning. Piers is not so lucky.

He holds theball gently in front of the morpeko. His fingers are sweaty, nervous, and he really doesn’t want to keep searching for such a tiny Pokémon in the dark. It’s not that he has anything against the night itself - he is a dark type trainer, after all - but he’s not exactly fond of being surrounded by nighttime bugs. Thanks, but no thanks.

He almost gasps in awe when the small Pokémon reaches out, paw pressing the button in the middle of the pokéball. Without a second thought, not a moment’s hesitation.

“Oh.”

And, just like that, a red light surrounds morpeko. Piers holds it in his palms, letting it wiggle around, still nervous. What if it decides this is not what it wants? What if he has to go back home empty-handed, feeling like a failure, not being able to see his sister’s smile like he used to?

And then, the ball stops completely. It’s done. It’s finally done.

Piers would freaking jump in place if he didn’t have a reputation to keep. He looks around, but every single trainer seems to have left. So he does it anyway. He jumps, and swears, and sings in glee.

His sister is going to smile until her face falls off. Well, not that much. Still a whole lot.

He stops when he realises it’s even darker now. The air is getting chilly, and he is exhausted. That’s when he sees it: a pair of blue, feline eyes looking directly at him, watching his display. A liepard, visibly amused. Smug little bastard.

“Don’t judge me,” he tells it, somewhere between annoyed and mortified. Then he remembers something (because he’s a dark type trainer and because he has common knowledge about one of the fastest pokémon in Galar), and doesn’t t have time to start running when the liepard pounces.

“I hate this,” he says, deadpan. He hates this bloody route with all his might.

* * *

The door of the apartment opens, and Marnie raises her eyes from her phone. Her blue eyes shine with surprise first, and then worry. She gets up from their old couch, her pigtails bouncing as she runs. “Bloody-”

Piers interrupts her before she can say another word. “No swearing, young lady.”

She is way too young to be speaking like him, Arceus be damned. Guess that’s what happens when you had to raise your younger sister as a teenager, surrounded by fellow punks who didn’t really want to say nasty stuff in front of her. Piers laments not having been able to shelter her enough.

“What happened?” she asks, and sod it, he loves her, no matter how much he despises seeing her this worried.

“Nothin’ important, a narky liepard being a narky liepard.”

His face is covered in scratches, and so are his arms and his legs. His uniform is ruined, but that makes him look even cooler, if he says so himself. Very punk rock. The telly is on, and the regional news are ending their broadcast.  _ So it’s this late… _

He hears something about dynamaxing, and about their “ _ dear chairman _ ”, and he groans. Marnie just blinks, once, twice, not really getting his discomfort and animosity.

“Let me help ya,” she says after a couple of seconds, always the thoughtful one. He swears she’s got all of the braincells in the family. Every. Single. One.

“Ta, but there’s something I want to show ya first.”

Marnie’s expression lightens up as soon as she recognizes the pokéball in Piers’ hand. It’s a little damaged after the liepard attack, like him, like them. A little broken, but beautiful.

“But-”

“No buts. Take it. I know this is what you wanted the most.”

Marnie looks at him, and then at the pokéball, and back at him. She then presses the button with one of her small fingers, fingers that morpeko hugs as soon as the light disappears.

Piers wonders, amazed, if the tiny Pokémon was able to feel how much he loves his little sister, and that’s why he decided to join them. To be a part of that.

Marnie used to cry a lot, when she was younger. It was always saddening to see her that scared. Sad, angry. The way she’s crying now makes Piers’ heart melt. Her face is all wet to her chin and under her nose, and she is sobbing without a care. But she’s smiling, too. The brightest smile that Piers has seen in years.

He feels his eyes getting wet, but he’s strong, for her. He pats her head with a smile, which makes Marnie’s shine even brighter.

For her, for that smile, there is nothing Piers wouldn’t do.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't let me sing cheesy songs about doing everything you can for someone you love. Don't. Let me


End file.
